This puts me at ease. Actually, it does more than that, it makes me happy to know he’s protecting me and, a moment later, I’m back.
“Wow, Lola. You’re so cool! God, I wish I could do that.”
“Shhh.” I bring a finger to my lips. “Do you think anyone saw?”
“No, nobody noticed. I’m sure of it.” His voice hushes to a whisper, “Where did you go?”
I furrow my brow and shrug. “I don’t think I actually go anywhere. I could hear you talking and I could see you.”
“So cool.”
“I gotta learn to control it better,” I say more to myself than Jon. I’m starting to worry that The Vanishing is happening more frequently.
“But you told me if you remain calm, you’ll be okay. So you just have to be calm,” Jon offers.
“Yeah, but how do I do that? That’s the hard part.”
“I think you just need to know how really great you are and then everything will fall into place.” He puts a hand on my arm. “You’re the smartest girl I know and I wish you could see what I see.”
A smile wants to bloom on my lips, but it would have been better if he’d said I was the most beautiful girl he knew.
“And you’re talented,” he adds. “I know about your writing.”
I give him a weak smile and he leans in close. I breathe in his cologne and have an overwhelming urge to caress his cheek.
“And I think you’re pretty too.”
Now I smile for real.
“I work Saturday night, but do you want to catch a movie with me Sunday?”
I nod. Now it’s me with the big goofy grin.
Chapter Fourteen
For the rest of the week I feel as if I’m floating. Jon meets me at my locker every morning and walks with me to homeroom. He even eats lunch with Charlie and me, outside under the oak tree. It’s fast becoming “our place” after we decide to steer clear of the cafeteria for a while. Charlie huffs and sighs and I can tell she’s not happy with the additional company. She continues to try to convince me I shouldn’t trust Jon, but my instincts tell me otherwise. I think she’s jealous because of all the attention he’s giving me. Oh well, she’s just going to have to get used to it.
Today’s Saturday and I spend most of it working on my story for the competition, but its slow going. I just can’t find the motivation and I spend hours staring at a blank page. My mind drifts. I can’t stop thinking about Jon and the things he said to me – that I’m pretty and smart. It makes goose flesh rise on my arms. I’m almost embarrassed. No one’s ever said those words to me, except for Gran, and I don’t think her opinion counts because she’s my grandmother and she has no choice.
I wonder what Jon’s writing about. I didn’t get much of a look when I tried to spy on him at the coffee shop. I’ll have to ask him tomorrow if he’s going to enter a story for the scholarship award. A contented smile spreads across my face. My dream’s coming true. I’m actually going on a date with Jon Kingsbury!
The temptation to call Gran to tell her my awesome news is almost unbearable, but I decide to wait for tomorrow’s visit, so I can see her reaction.
I finally pulled a few ideas out of my preoccupied brain and hurriedly got them down on paper. I tuck my story away and rummage through my closet for something to wear on my date tomorrow. Something slimming, probably something black. I decide on my new dark wash jeans and then sneak into Eva’s room to root around for a top.
My heart sinks when the unmistakable sound of footsteps stop me cold. I’ve been caught red-handed.
“What are you doing?” she asks at the door, hands planted firmly on her hips.
“I need to borrow a top.”
“What for? You only wear T-shirts.”
“I have a date.”
Eva laughs. “Yeah right. That’s about as likely as one of my tops actually fitting you.”
“You might have something…”
She slams a palm inches from my face. “Don’t want to hear it. Get out.”
I feel my face redden and I throw her a nasty look. I step toward her and she jumps out of the way.
Yeah, that’s right. I could pound your little ass into the ground.
Satisfied, I stomp away. Sometimes, being big has its advantages.
The thought of asking for Mom’s help flits briefly through my mind, but I let the idea slip away. An impromptu shopping trip is always a possibility, or God forbid, she might actually find something of hers that fits me. I can imagine it, sparkly and low cut. Eva’s wardrobe isn’t that much different than Mom’s, but her taste is slightly less showy. Besides, I don’t want Mom to know I have a date. She’ll get all nosy. Panic rises; I hope Eva doesn’t say anything. But I know my sister well. She’s either already forgotten about my date or doesn’t believe me anyway, and is immersed again in her own shallow life.
Once back in my room for another round of rummaging, I finally settle on one of my nicer T-shirts. It’s fairly new and the colors are right black and dark gray: slimming colors. It’s got long sleeves so it probably doesn’t really qualify as a real T-shirt, but it’s light enough to wear at this time of year. Besides, Jon likes me the way I am, so why change now? I wince. Only a small part of me really believes that.
* * * *
Finally, it’s Sunday morning. I lie here trying to relax and push away the thoughts that are forcing me out of the comfort of my bed. I’m not really nervous about my date with Jon, at least not yet. More than anything, I’m excited, but my adrenaline is definitely pumping. I’m getting used to him, I think. Our conversations are never awkward and he’s funny, but Charlie’s usually there as a buffer. Tonight will be different. It’ll just be me and Jon. An uncomfortable churning in my belly finally drives me from my bed.
Hurriedly I dress, pulling on the same clothes I wore the day before. I’ll have a shower and wash my hair when I get back from Gran’s.
Dad’s at the kitchen table, sipping from his giant mug of coffee while scrolling through something on his cellphone. No doubt he’ll be heading to the garage for a smoke soon, taking his coffee with him. He’s got a nice little set up out there; a couch, a small television and a beer fridge. Mom doesn’t allow smoking in the house. She’s a reformed smoker and is constantly on Dad’s case about quitting. I don’t blame her. He smells like an ashtray.
“Good morning,” he says brightly when I enter the kitchen.
He’s got a few days’ growth of stubble and his hair stands stiffly on end; too much gel and hairspray. I cringe at the thought of how many other dads use more hair products than their daughters. Two large hoop earrings adorn his lobes and he’s wearing a True Religion shirt and jeans with holes in them. He paid extra for the holes I think.
“Hey, Dad. Mom still asleep?” I pull a bowl from the cupboard and fill it with Cheerios.
“Yeah. She needs her beauty sleep.” He grins, looking up from his iPhone. “Going to Gran’s today?”
I sit and pour milk into my bowl. “That’s the plan.”
He puts his phone down and leans on his forearms to scrutinize me. His brows knit in confusion and he gives his head a little shake. “Why, Lola? She’s what, seventy-eight, seventy-nine? Why do you want to hang out with an old lady?”
“She’s eighty and she’s cool,” I say. Defiance edges my voice. “I love Grandma Rose.”
He laughs. “I know you love her. We all love her. But only you could find an eighty-year-old woman cool. It’s the weekend, it’s almost summer. Why don’t you go out with some friends? You’re starting to worry me.”
“Don’t worry about me.” I stare into my cereal.
“But always with the books and the writing.” He lifts my face with a finger, which is crowned with black nail polish. “I just want you to be happy.”
I sigh and turn away. How many times do I have to hear this speech? “You just don’t get it. You, Mom, Eva, you’re all alike. I’m the outsider in this family. Dad, I am happy. I love to read, I love to write a
nd I love to hang out with Grandma Rose. Why can’t you just let me be me? I won’t ever be like you guys.” I scrape my chair back and stand. “I don’t want to be like you guys.”
I shovel a huge scoop of cereal into my mouth and mumble, “Be back after lunch.”
Chapter Fifteen
My mood lifts as soon as I see Grandma Rose’s smiling face.
“Keep your shoes on, Kiddo, we’re goin’ out today,” she announces with enthusiasm when I walk through the door. Her make-up is on, her hair is neatly combed and sprayed into place – I can tell by the sheen – and she’s dressed in her favorite comfy-looking velour track suit. She shrugs a giant purse onto a shoulder. “Let’s go!”
Gran still drives, though she had to take a driving test this year in order to keep her licence. She passed with flying colors.
“Where’re we going?”
“You mind goin’ to the mall with your old granny? I know how you hate shopping with your mom. I promise I won’t make you try on ugly clothes,” she says with a giggle. “I need an outfit for my ballroom dancing recital this afternoon.”
My mind boggles. I knew Gran took some kind of dance lesson on Sunday afternoons. She heads straight over to the community center after my visits. But ballroom dancing? I thought it was exercise dancing for old folks. Then again, she does go on and on about Dancing with the Stars, and how much she loves some guy on the show named Maks, so it shouldn’t surprise me. She even painted a picture of him, if I remember correctly.
“How come you never told me you were taking ballroom dancing?”
“Oh, I suppose I do lots of things I don’t tell you about,” she says with a wink. “Tonight we do the Cha Cha Cha. I’m so excited. I’ve got to get something sexy, but age appropriate.”
She threw in the last bit for my benefit. Gran isn’t like Mom in the way she dresses. She’s got class. I wish some of it had rubbed off on my mother.
After pulling into the parking lot of Bridgewood Mall in Gran’s cherry red 1989 Toyota Corolla SR5, we head into the mall to her favorite dancewear store “Step-in-Style.”
“I’ve got some exciting news,” I announce.
“What’s that, honey?” she asks as she searches the racks in the Latin dance section.
“I’ve got a date tonight.”
Gran stops, smiles hugely and pulls me into an embrace. “Oh, Lola, I’m so happy for you.” Then she holds me at arm’s length. “Is he a good boy? What’s his name?”
“His name’s Jon, and yes, Gran, he’s a good boy.”
She eyes me for a moment, a brow lifts and her lips purse. “You didn’t tell him about The Vanishing did you?”
I chew my lower lip and worry creases my brow as I give a slow nod. Lying to Gran is not an option. But I didn’t think she’d ask this question. How stupid am I?
“Oh, Lola.” A frown sets on her lips and her face erupts in a road map of wrinkles. “Honey, you’ve got to be careful who you tell. You told me the other day Charlie knows, but no one else, okay? Only those closest to you should know.”
A flicker of regret passes through me. “I… I’m sorry.” My gaze falls away.
She takes my hand and pats it. “It’s all right, just don’t tell anyone else, okay?”
I nod. I’m relieved she’s not mad. Upsetting Gran is the last thing I’d ever want to do. “So, who did you tell besides me? Do Mom, Dad and Eva know?” I ask, figuring I should know whether to keep my mouth shut around my family – not that I’d tell them anyway.
Gran gives her head a solemn shake. “No. Your mom and Eva don’t have the ability, so there was no sense in telling them. And your dad, well it’s none of his business and besides he wouldn’t believe it, so why saddle his tiny brain with the knowledge.”
Despite Dad saying he loved Gran this morning, I know there’s no love lost between them, although I never understood why and never asked. Some things a person’s better off not knowing.
“I’m pretty sure I can trust Jon and I know I can trust Charlie,” I say, trying to look confident. “I haven’t told anyone else.”
Gran cups my face in her hands. “It’s my fault. I should have told you to keep everything quiet last week when we first talked about The Vanishing.” She cocks her head and makes a tsk sound. “This is all so new to you. I should have taken more time to explain. But, what’s done is done and there’s no use worrying about it now. Besides, I’m sure your boy’s a good fella and I know Charlie’s a true friend.” She smiles, throws her hands in the air then resumes her search for an age appropriate Cha Cha Cha costume.
The saleswoman appears and helps Gran find the perfect ensemble with matching shoes. It’s a tasteful dark blue dress with a slit up one side, but not as high as most of the others. The shoes are navy leather with a sturdy one-inch heel. It’s the first and only dress Gran tries on.
“I love it,” she declares and, before I know it, we’re done.
Shopping with Gran is a whole lot simpler than with Mom.
“Do ya want something new to wear for your date tonight?” Gran asks with excitement in her voice. “I’ll treat ya.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ve already picked out something to wear.” Gran’s always trying to give me things or buy me stuff.
“Ah come on, lemme do something nice for my darling granddaughter.” She pulls me into the first store she spies that looks like it’s for teenagers.
I relent, knowing it’s a losing battle anyway and pick out a couple of tops. Not T-shirts, but real tops with buttons. I’d never really considered anything like this for myself before. Suddenly they seem pretty.
“Do ya want to try them on?”
“They’re an extra-large, they’ll fit,” I say flatly, holding one up against me.
Gran pays and I take the bag. I’m already carrying her bags from “Step-in-Style.”
“I’m starvin’,” Gran says. “Let’s go to the food court.”
“It’s only 11:00,” I say, but realize Gran probably didn’t have breakfast. “On second thought, I’d love a tea and a muffin.”
Grandma Rose sits in front of me with a heaped Styrofoam plate of Chinese food. I’ve already started in on my blueberry muffin.
“How’s your story comin’?”
I tell Gran about everything I write. She’s my biggest fan and greatest supporter. “I’m having a bit of trouble with it. But it’ll work itself out.”
“Good attitude. I know it’ll be fantastic when you get done with it. You’re going to be a best-selling author someday.”
Hearing those words, I feel my heart doing a little dance. It’s what I want more than anything. “Do you really think so?”
“I’ve read everything you’re ever written and I’m not just saying it ’cause I love you. You’ve got talent! Don’t you dare let it go to waste. You better let me read this one as soon as you’re done.” She narrows her eyes in mock threat.
“Don’t worry; you’ll be the first person I let read it.”
“How ’bout your parents? Are they warming up to the idea of you wanting to be a writer?”
I shake my head and think about what my parents want for me. They’d probably be fine with me having a regular-type 9 to 5 job, working in an office somewhere, but they’d never support my dream of being a writer. It’s too foreign to them.
Gran shovels in a huge forkful of moo guy chicken and continues to speak despite her full mouth. “You’ve got to do what you love.”
Her words are garbled, but I understand her perfectly.
“Don’t be what your parents want you to be. Follow your dreams, Lola. Now’s the time – when you’re young.”
“I know, Gran. I’ve also got to decide on a major.”
“You didn’t pick one yet?” Concern tinges her voice. “I think that’s a no-brainer … English literature.”
She’s right. It’s what my heart wants, but it’s not what’s expected of me. “How do I tell Mom and Dad? I feel like I owe them, they’re paying my tuitio
n.”
“Honey, they’re your parents, what do you think they’re going to do? Keep you from going to university just because they don’t like your major? Besides, whadda they know about university, neither of them dodo birds finished high school.”
We laugh until we cry. It’s so wonderful to have Gran on my side. It’s as if we’re the same soul living in separate bodies.
Gran throws a hand in the air, a finger extended. “I’ve got an idea,” she says, her eyes bright.
I lean forward. “Lay it on me.”
“A tattoo,” she says.
“What?”
“You need to get a tattoo. Nothing too big, mind you. I don’t really like tattoos, but this would be a symbol, something to remind you of your passion and your dream of becoming a writer. Like a book, or a pen or even a typewriter.”
I shake my head. “That’s crazy.”
“No, it’s not. You can have it put in a place where you’ll always see it. It can be a constant reminder to never give up on your dream.”
The idea rolls around in my mind for a moment. If it were coming from anyone other than Gran, I’d reject it without a thought, but she does have a good point, and it wouldn’t have to be big, just something small, maybe on the inside of my wrist where I’d see it every day.
“There’s a tattoo parlour in the mall. Ya wanna do it?” Mischief plays in her eyes.
“My parents would freak. Especially Dad – you know how old fashioned he can be when it comes to his girls.”
Gran gives a throaty laugh. “Good Lord. He doesn’t have a leg to stand on with all those damn tattoos he’s got. Besides, Eva’s got one, hasn’t she?”
“Yeah, but he didn’t like it. She was grounded for two weeks. Besides, she’s over eighteen. Don’t you have to be eighteen?”
“I’ll tell them you’re my granddaughter and it’s my present to you for your eighteenth birthday. And don’t worry about your parents, they’ll get over it.” Gran’s eyes flash with excitement. “If all else fails, I’ll give them a little extra dough.” She winks.
Invisible Page 6
